


One Stolen Afternoon

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: hp_unfaithful, Drama, First Time, Infidelity, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One stolen afternoon never happened again... and for seventeen years Draco didn't think he regretted it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Stolen Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Snegurochka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/gifts).



_He never changes_ , thought Draco half-fondly, half-resentfully when he saw Harry on Platform 9 ¾. He knew the same could not be said for himself; he touched his thinning hair with a self-conscious gesture before turning the movement into a straightening of his tie.

Beside him his wife was patting their son's head and saying all of the appropriate things, telling Scorpius that they would write weekly and expected him to do the same, saying that he should study hard but have fun, and assuring him that he would enjoy his first term at Hogwarts and they would see him at the holidays. Draco made all the appropriate noises of agreement, but he wasn't really listening. He was staring at Harry, willing him to look up.

Harry did.

Even from that distance Draco could see the way that Harry froze for a moment, his eyes meeting Draco's despite all the people between them. He gave a slow deliberate nod in Draco's direction and Draco returned it before they each returned their attention to their respective families.

When at last the train pulled out, Draco didn't bother to see if the Potters were still there. He bent to whisper in his wife's ear, "Let's go home and back to bed."

"Oh, Draco," she said with a giggle, "how naughty of you. Of course."

As Draco made her writhe like a doxy in heat, though, what he saw was not the slim blonde form of his wife, but the still-muscular figure of Harry Potter, and as he gasped through his orgasm, he had to bite back Harry's name from his lips.

Their single encounter had been nearly seventeen years before, and most of the time Draco was able to put it out of his head. Nothing about it had matched his image of himself. And yet –

* * *

  
He and Asteria were fighting again. He loved her, but there were things she just didn't understand or accept, such as the fact that it was impossible for them to live anywhere but Malfoy Manor.

"It's simply one of the requirements, darling," he tried to explain for the nine hundredth time. "Except when he is at school, the Malfoy heir must reside here in order to qualify for the inheritance. And no, leaving some things here but spending most of my time in a London flat would not count. You like the Malfoy wealth and connections, don't pretend you don't, and you won't have those if we were to live in our own place – not ever."

"To get away from your parents, it might be worth it," shouted Asteria, making Draco glad that he'd had the sense to put a Silencing Charm in place before their morning row. Asteria was in the middle of a formal fortnight-long visit to the Manor; she had her own guest room in the other wing, but informally she spent her nights with Draco.

"What's wrong with my parents?" he demanded.

"Oh, nothing," said Asteria, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Only that your mother runs the household, and has made it clear that she intends to continue, which will leave me nothing whatsoever to do regarding our living situation. The entire house, including the rooms that will be ours, is furnished to _her_ taste, and she's discouraged me from even thinking of making changes. Already if she doesn't approve of some article of my clothing, it is mysteriously lost, or damaged in the laundry, or something. And your father..." she faltered.

"What about my father?" Something in the way that Asteria hunched her shoulders made Draco wary.

"He hasn't _done_ anything," said Asteria quickly. "He's never touched me or said anything to me that he couldn't have said in front of you and Narcissa. It's just the way he _looks_ at me, as if he were staring through my clothes, inviting me to go to bed with him. I'm sorry, Draco, but it's true."

Draco swore under his breath. He didn't quite believe Asteria, but he didn't _disbelieve_ either, and it didn't matter in any case. Even if his father had raped Asteria in the drawing room, if Draco wanted to inherit the Malfoy estate, he had no choice but to remain at the Manor with his family. "It's just his way," he said, knowing it to be a weak defence. "He's always flirted with pretty women."

"Yes, well, I'm not just some pretty woman he's happened to meet as a cocktail party. I'm his son's fiancée, soon to be your wife, and I don't want to have to put up with that kind of behaviour for the next thirty or forty or fifty years, however long he lives. I want you to put a stop to it, Draco, _or else_ ," she warned, a dangerous glint in her eye.

Draco didn't ask what "or else" meant. Knowing Asteria, it might be anything from refusing to speak to him for a day or so, to withholding sex for a month, to breaking their engagement. One of the things he loved about her was her unpredictability, but at times it irritated him beyond reason, and this was one of those times.

"Just how do you expect me to do that? You know perfectly well that my father does as he pleases, as he thinks best. And from what you tell me there is nothing I can actually accuse him of doing, except for giving you a few flirtatious looks – something he can very easily laugh off or deny altogether."

"I don't care _how_ you do it, just _do it_." Asteria was not shouting now. Her voice had gone very quiet, and her face might have been carved from stone. "You _will_ do this for me, Draco."

Draco turned on his heel and left the room, muttering to himself. He had to get away from Asteria, his parents, everyone, if only for a few hours. He had to clear his head somehow.

Within half an hour he was flying, speeding over the scattered clouds. The air was cold and Draco wished he'd put on proper gear before jumping on his broom, but it was too late now. He made do with a Warming Charm.

The flying suited him. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to marry Asteria, far from it. She was one of the best pureblood matches possible, and really quite attractive, with long honey-coloured hair only a couple of shades darker than Draco's own, and amazingly green eyes. Since they were engaged, they both agreed that it was permissible to have sex; if Asteria became pregnant, they would simply move up the date of the wedding. Both of them already thought of themselves as in effect already married. The financial arrangements and agreements were all worked out, and it was just a question of the formal ceremony.

Draco might have thought that he would feel trapped, but he didn't. Even though he wouldn't be able to live outside Malfoy Manor, marriage – and, he hoped, fatherhood – would mark him as a responsible adult. Besides, there was a trust fund in Draco's name that would be his to draw on upon marriage, and that would make him at least _somewhat_ independent of his parents.

The wind rushed past, numbing his cheeks as he ducked in and out of the clouds. He hadn't consciously had any destination in mind when he set out, but he realised that he was heading northward, and had a sudden inexplicable yen to see the grounds of Hogwarts. Many volunteers over the past couple of years had participated in restoring the school to its pre-battle state, he knew. The Malfoys had donated a large sum to the repair fund, but Draco had elected not to go in person to help. He had had reasonable doubt that he'd be welcome.

It was much too far to fly there directly, however, so Draco summoned all his concentration and Apparated himself and his broom. He crowed with delight when he arrived safely a few feet above the lake, a spot he had aimed for in case of trouble. Apparating from mid-air to mid-air was trickier than when one was on solid ground.

He circled the lake several times before landing and leaving his broom against a tree. The grounds seemed to be deserted. Then Draco realised that it was lunch time. Probably everyone was inside the Great Hall, eating. _Excellent_. He could look around a bit, see the outside of the castle anyhow, without fear of any unpleasant confrontations with those who might still bear a grudge against him, even though he'd been exonerated by the Wizengamot. His father had spent several months in Azkaban, but that was far less of a punishment than it once was, given that the Dementors were no longer used as guards. Malfoy wealth and Malfoy influence had quickly eased the family back into the best part of Wizarding society, even before Lucius's release; Narcissa had seen to that.

The younger generation, though, seemed more likely to hold grudges, and Draco preferred not to provoke any public unpleasantness.

He had walked around the entire castle and was standing in front of the memorial that had been erected in honor of the fallen when he heard a voice behind him.

"I wouldn't have expected to see _you_ here, Malfoy."

The voice was not mocking. The voice belonged to Harry Potter. That both these things were true surprised Draco so much that he whirled to see Harry standing there, looking at him with a steady gaze.

"I wouldn't have had any of them die," he said truthfully, and waited for Harry's reply.

Harry was silent, his eyes holding Draco's. Absently Draco noticed that Harry's eyes were the same color as Asteria's; maybe even greener, emerald instead of mint. As he gazed back, he had a sudden memory of clinging tightly to Harry as they fled the flames in the Room of Requirement.

"I believe you," said Harry at last. "But why are you here?"

Draco shrugged. "Asteria and I had a fight, and I decided to go flying to cool off, and then I suddenly had the impulse to come to Hogwarts. I don't know."

"Asteria?"

"Asteria Greengrass, my fiancée, Daphne's younger sister. She's two years younger than we are, so she just finished here this past spring."

"It's hard to believe that it's been two years," murmured Harry, laying one hand on the memorial stone. "Well. If you're fighting already, before you get married, isn't that a bad sign?"

"I don't think so. All married couples quarrel sometimes, after all." As he said that, Draco realised that Harry hadn't grown up with his own parents, and perhaps didn't know how married people behaved. Then he remembered that Harry had been raised by a Muggle aunt and uncle. Surely, then, he would know that; Muggles couldn't be _that_ different in such behavior, he was sure.

Harry took a step closer to Draco. "Ginny and I don't _quarrel_ , exactly. If we disagree about something, I almost always give in and let her have things her way. I loathe fighting."

"I don't enjoy it either," said Draco.

They stood there side by side in front of the memorial for another few minutes in silence. Draco felt the tension of his unresolved argument with Asteria draining out of him, only to be replaced by a different sort of tension altogether, this one provoked by his proximity to Harry. All of the hairs on his forearms were standing up, sensitised by their closeness, and another part of his anatomy was trying to stand, too. He sneaked a sideways look, but Harry seemed oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil, thank Merlin. At least, he seemed so until they both reached out at the same moment to the stone, and their hands touched.

A jolt went through Draco, strong as a Crucio but of pleasure instead of pain. He choked out Harry's name just as Harry pulled him close for a frantic kiss.

Kissing Harry was both like and unlike kissing girls, and Draco had had enough experience with the latter to know the difference. Harry's mouth commanded, it didn't yield to him, and Draco felt his knees grow weak and found his sight blurring. All the blood in his body seemed to have rushed to his prick, which was trying to drill a hole through his robes to get at Harry. His hips tilted forward and found an answering hardness.

Harry's hands were gripping his arse, tugging him closer still.

"Harry!"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Harry muttered, his face flushed and his eyes wild behind his glasses as they broke away from the kiss at the sound of a girl's voice calling. "That's Ginny."

Draco could cheerfully have hexed Ginny Weasley into next week right that second.

He was forestalled, however, by Harry putting on a determined expression and muttering, "No. For once, I'm going to... yes." He looked at Draco.

"You can't have Apparated straight into the Hogwarts grounds. That was one of the first spells we double-checked and renewed. How did you get here?"

"Broom," answered Draco.

"Where is it?"

"Down by the lake," said Draco, bewildered.

"Right. I think we can get there without being seen. Come on, hurry." Harry grabbed Draco's hand and started to run. "Which way?"

"This way." Draco steered Harry further to the left.

"I'll fly it," said Harry as they reached the spot where Draco had left his broom. "There's a place, if we can just reach the edge of the grounds without anyone seeing us, I'll Apparate us there, all right?" When Draco didn't respond immediately, Harry said, "Unless you don't want to go away with me? Just for the afternoon?"

The pleading note in Harry's voice decided Draco. He fancied girls, not boys, but who in their right mind would pass up a chance to shag Harry? Draco's mind was already alive with the possibilities.

"Take me there," he said, aware of the double entendre even as he straddled the broom.

For the second time in his life held tight to Harry as they flew, but this time he could appreciate Harry's skill. He'd been rather too terrified in the Room of Requirement to enjoy that experience.

Harry landed them just on the far side of the wall that marked off Hogwarts. "I don't Apparate well, flying," he said apologetically, and Draco nodded.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere that no one will look for us," said Harry. "Well, Hermione _might_ think of it, but we won't be gone so long that anyone's going to be looking. Here." He put his arms around Draco, still gripping the handle of the broom.

The familiar swooping, sick-making sensation of Apparition enveloped Draco, and an instant later they were standing in a strange forest. Before Draco could look around or even try to guess where they might be, Harry's mouth had found his again, and all thought fled.

What followed would seem increasingly dream-like as the succeeding weeks and months and years slipped by. Certain impressions remained strong, like looking down the length of his own body to see Harry sucking his cock, green eyes staring back up at him. They stayed there all afternoon, Transfiguring fallen leaves and stones into blankets and pillows for comfort after the urgency of the initial encounter had ebbed somewhat.

"Have you ever been, you know, with a bloke before?" Harry asked after that first hasty mutual orgasm. They were lying facing each other, hands outstretched to fondle each other's pricks, which were already showing signs of readiness for more.

Draco shook his head. "You?"

"No."

After a moment of digesting that, Draco asked, "Why me?" Harry had made a point of returning Draco's wand a couple of weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Draco had apologised for everything he'd done in the carefully staged formal reconciliation that the Ministry had arranged, but that was hardly enough to warrant Harry wanting to have sex with him, not after years of evident distrust and dislike. Although, honestly, Draco couldn't have put a logical justification to his own actions, either. "I thought you were involved with Ginny?" He only just kept from calling her the Weasel.

"I am. And you're with Asteria, and that's how it should be, but..." Harry's face was red. "I was totally obsessed with you in sixth year, you know. I was convinced that you were a Death Eater, and I followed you, spied on you, to try to get proof of it. But watching you all the time, I started to think about you in other ways as well."

"Really?" The notion that Harry had had a crush or whatever you wanted to call it on him was flattering in the extreme. "I guessed you might be following me, but I'd no idea you felt like _that_."

"Would it have made any difference if you had?" Harry's voice was unexpectedly wistful.

Draco thought about it. "No, probably not," he admitted with some regret.

"I didn't think so, but I had to ask. Just to know if there was anything else that I should feel guilty about." Harry sounded as if he were trying to make a joke of it, but Draco was fairly certain he was serious.

"It doesn't matter. Come here," he said, and kissed him, leaving conversation behind for a while longer.

He started touching Harry again, seized with a sudden desire to learn every inch of Harry's body, to see him come undone. Harry's cock pulsed in his hand as he held it. Thicker than Draco's own, but a fraction shorter, it lured Draco down to take a taste. He glanced up. Harry looked back at him, those green eyes filled with wonder as his hand moved to stroke Draco's hair away from his face.

"Please, yes," whispered Harry, and Draco needed no second invitation.

He had never sucked a cock before, but he'd _been_ sucked often enough to have a pretty good idea of how to do it. Harry was quite content with Draco's efforts, if the groans and whimpers spilling from his throat were anything to go by. Draco couldn't take all of Harry's prick into his mouth at once, he discovered, wondering how on earth Asteria managed it with him, but he made up for that by letting some saliva trickle down to the base and using his hand there instead.

"Yeah, oh yeah, Draco, I'm gonna come, come now," Harry babbled.

Draco had only a few seconds to decide whether to let Harry come in his mouth, or pull away. He hung on, but the jet of Harry's spunk hitting the back of his throat almost choked him, and caused him to swallow involuntarily, coming up spluttering and glad that he'd had enough presence of mind not to bite down, at any rate.

"Sorry," said Harry. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Draco coughed again and swallowed hard, trying to clear the musky bitter taste from his mouth. "I need a drink of water." He fumbled around for his wand to conjure one, but Harry beat him to it.

"Here." He handed Draco a cup, and Draco drank gratefully. The awkwardness had caused his own erection to flag somewhat, but it revived when Harry ran a hand down his chest.

"Want me to do that to you?" Harry asked. "I don't know if I'll be any good at it, but..."

"Yeah."

Draco didn't care if Harry was good or not; he just wanted Harry's mouth on him as soon as possible. That would be enough.

Harry scooted down to prop himself on his elbows between Draco's legs. He licked the tip of Draco's cock, paused, and removed his glasses, setting them down well to the side. He grinned up at Draco, who smiled back, before he resumed.

Like Draco, Harry didn't seem able to take more than perhaps two-thirds of a prick into his mouth, and he followed the same strategy of using his fingers to massage the lower part as sucked. His other hand stroked Draco's bollocks at first, but when Draco tilted his hips up further, Harry started to rub his perineum and even pressed lightly over his arsehole. Draco gave a shuddering sigh. Asteria seemed to enjoy sucking him off well enough, but fastidiously refused to go anywhere near his arse, and Draco had learned to enjoy that years ago while wanking himself. To have someone else touch him there was a dream come true.

He resisted coming as long as he could, to prolong the impossible delight of having Harry do this to him, but at last he had to warn Harry that he was about to come.

Harry's response was to flicker his tongue a little faster, so Draco presumed he was willing to let Draco come in his mouth. It was a long slow orgasm, perhaps because it was his second in just an hour. Harry hung on throughout, swallowed, and made sure Draco was licked clean before he wriggled his way back up and kissed Draco on the mouth once more. Draco could hardly object, since it was his own spunk that flavored Harry's kiss. It didn't taste quite the same as Harry's had, though.

Harry flipped a corner of a Transfigured blanket over them, and they both dozed for a while. Draco was the first to awake again. He lay looking at Harry and thinking about what had happened.

It had been an afternoon of great pleasure, the more so for being so entirely unexpected. The question was, did he want it to ever happen again? For a potential hold over Harry, once was certainly enough. Of course Harry would have the same leverage against Draco, but blackmail wasn't the sort of thing Harry would do. He was no Slytherin. If the encounter were to be repeated, however, that could well undermine any usefulness for Draco, since if the affair were to become public, Draco could then be perceived as the instigator, the needy one; whereas on this occasion it was unquestionably Harry who had made the suggestion.

Then, too, there was Asteria to consider, and Draco's whole future. Marrying Asteria would give him as much independence as a junior member of the Malfoy family could expect. A relationship with another wizard could never do that, not even if the wizard were the hero Harry Potter. Asteria need not know anything about today's encounter. She was perfectly aware that Draco had been with other women in the past, but she had made it clear that she expected Draco's fidelity beginning the moment they became engaged and started having sex together. Once, Draco was sure he could get away with, especially given the spontaneous nature of the action, but to repeat this liaison with Harry would be to risk losing Asteria if she ever found out.

He laughed at himself. Here he was considering whether or not to have a clandestine relationship with Harry, when he didn't even know if _Harry_ had any wish to do so. It sounded as though, if not officially engaged, there was a clear understanding between Harry and Ginny. Harry might not have the same constraints as Draco, but given typical Gryffindor loyalty, he was probably just as committed to Ginny as Draco was to Asteria. In fact, Draco wouldn't be surprised if Harry looked back on today as an episode of quasi-adultery.

Harry murmured something in his sleep. Draco thought it might have been Ginny's name, although he wasn't sure. He closed his own eyes again, and woke, startled, to Harry shaking him.

The light was fading into the dimness of evening.

"We should probably leave," said Harry, regret plain in his voice.

"I guess we'd better." Draco found his wand and cast cleaning charms on both of them.

"Thanks," said Harry, as he began to get dressed.

They Transfigured the blankets and pillows back into leaves and rocks. Draco looked around. Everything appeared to be just as it had been when they arrived.

"How did you know about this place, anyhow?" he asked.

"It's one of the spots where we camped the year I was searching for Horcruxes," Harry said. "Just a spot in a forest."

 _Not just any spot now_ , thought Draco, fixing the coordinates in his mind. "Did you just want to Apparate back to Hogwarts by yourself?"

"I think I'd better. It's not that far from the gate to the Castle, and if you flew me in on your broom people might ask questions." Harry looked embarrassed. "Er. I was thinking."

"Thinking what?" prompted Draco when Harry paused.

Harry's face was red. "I mean, I'm glad that we got together, and everything, and maybe if things were different then I wouldn't be saying what I am, but as it is I don't think we should see each other like this again. Do you?"

"No, I suppose not," Draco had to agree, although a small part of him protested in regret. He took a deep breath. "Well, goodbye then, Harry." He held out his hand. Harry took it and held it for a moment before bowing his head and saying in a strangled voice, "Go!"

Draco gave Harry's fingers one last squeeze before he grabbed his broom and flew off. He didn't try to get his bearings; as soon as he was well aloft he Apparated back to Wiltshire, although he chose a spot some miles from Malfoy Manor, to allow time to compose himself before anyone saw him.

* * *

  
When it came time to send out the formal wedding invitations, Draco added Harry's name to the list of guests.

"Just a gesture," he explained it to his parents and Asteria. If he secretly hoped that Harry would come, he was to be disappointed, but in return he received an invitation to Harry's wedding, which he likewise failed to attend.

The years slipped past, one by one, and Draco enjoyed his life most of the time. If he sometimes resented the restrictions that came with being the Malfoy heir, and Asteria chafed under them even more, still, the benefits were worth it. They had an active sex life for the first years of their marriage, slipping slowly into a comfortable routine after Scorpius was born and Asteria failed to become pregnant again. Draco assured her that he was happy with their one son -- no more than the truth -- and pointed out that she would find it easier to keep her figure than his old friend Pansy had, after six children including a pair of twins. After that Asteria seemed somewhat more content

He saw Harry from time to time, at Ministry events and the like, but with never more than a formal "hello". Draco never used the potential for blackmail, either. Somehow it never seemed quite right. Though he recalled it wistfully on occasion, neither did he regret that one stolen afternoon, not until he was putting Scorpius on the train, and saw Harry's son, who looked astonishingly like his father, also boarding. Then he was drawn back to his own years at Hogwarts and the roles Harry had played in his life, and he wondered for just a moment what would have happened if he had tried to continue whatever it was between himself and Harry. Mutual lust, yes, but there had also been more to their encounter than that, even if he could not now put words to it. Would he have left Asteria, and Harry Ginny? Would it be himself and Harry standing there on Platform 9 ¾ with a son or daughter of their own?

He couldn't know. He would never know. And so he turned to his wife and sought solace and reassurance in her bed, her arms, her body. He had been unfaithful to her in body only that once, with Harry, but now in his mind he was unfaithful again.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hp_unfaithful One-Night Stand Mini-Fest. I was actually bunnied by one of the example prompts; go figure. For Snegurochka, because without her it would never have been written.


End file.
